


only difference is now i barely feel it anymore

by boston_sized_city



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The College Tapes (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mark Freaks Out, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boston_sized_city/pseuds/boston_sized_city
Summary: They were too late. Just too late.Oliver is dead.Mark regrets.
Relationships: Joan Bright & Mark Bryant, Mark Bryant & Caleb Michaels, Mark Bryant & Jason Beck, Mark Bryant/Oliver Ritz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefigureinthecorner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefigureinthecorner/gifts).



> canon divergence where oliver died in the finale and they were too late.
> 
> chapter one cws: one off-screen death and one on-screen death.
> 
> title from all is well (goodbye, goodbye) by radical face

Mark's hand was on the doorknob. Beck stopped him from opening it. "We don't know what they're doing in there. It could be dangerous."

Mark just shrugged his hand off his arm. "Oliver is in there," he said, voice lowered. He sounded angry. Beck stepped back.

The door creaked as it opened, and they heard Blackwell's voice get louder, and then stop. He was looking at them. "You've finally joined us," he said darkly. "Why don't you sit and watch?"

All of the other cult members were looking at them, too. Ben squeezed Caleb's hand, which they'd grabbed when the door had opened. 

And then Mark found Oliver. Strapped down to what looked like an altar, unconcious.

His eyes widened. "Oliver!"

"Don't." Beck was holding his arm again. Mark looked at him, and he flicked his eyes to Blackwell.

Seamus was holding a knife in his hand, dangerously close to the altar. He laughed, a low chuckle that made Mark want to punch him. And he could feel that Beck felt the same. "You can do  _ nothing _ to stop me now."

He was about to say something else-- When his back hit the wall, opposite the altar. He crumpled, the knife dropping to the ground with a clatter.

"What? Were we supposed to wait for him to finish talking?" Ben was grinning, looking almost relieved. 

Mark didn't wait for him to get up before he ran to where Oliver was laying unconcious. "Oliver, hey- hey, can you hear me?"

Faintly, he heard the fighting behind him. He tuned it out, starting to undo the restraints. "Oliver, you're okay, you have to get up so we can get out of here."

Oliver didn't move. And then Mark noticed his chest, which was completely still. His stomach sank.

"Oliver?"

He swallowed, and lifted Oliver's hand carefully, pressing his thumb to his wrist. His hand was shaking too much to tell if there was even a pulse anyway, but he knew. Something tightened in his chest.

No. No, no, no. 

He looked up at Blackwell, trembling but still trying to keep his voice strong. "You killed him."

Blackwell stopped talking about- whatever he was saying, it didn't matter. "What?" His eyes were furious, but fear flickered in them for a moment.

"You  _ killed _ him." Mark didn't try to do it. He only felt his anger building up and pushing at his chest and his lungs and then-

Electricity snaked down his arms and shot from his fingers, catching Blackwell and lifting him into the air.

He screamed. 

Now almost everyone else was watching. But Frankie was staring at his own hands, Caleb was holding his head, back against a wall. Adam was watching the scene, but his arms were around Caleb.

Mark couldn't see what he was doing to Blackwell anymore; his eyes are blurry and burning. But he hears it. He hears the shock and the static of his ability and the agonized screams of the murderer he's hurting.

"Mark!" It's someone's voice. Beck. It's Beck's voice. Mark's ears are buzzing. "Mark, you're killing him!"

He didn't care. Oliver was dead. Oliver was  _ dead _ .

Mark screamed, a hoarse, pained scream, and fell to his knees.

And Blackwell fell, his body twitching once before going still. 

Beck didn't move. He was staring at Blackwell's limp body, his hands shaking. Then he went to check his pulse.

"Oh, god." Frankie was shaking, too, clenching and unclenching his fists. Caitlin was trying to help him calm down, Adam still doing the same for Caleb.

The other members of the cult were long gone. Blackwell was the only one left, and-

"He's alive." Beck stood up. He looked at Mark, who was still kneeling on the ground, his whole body shaking as he sobbed. The electricity had stopped.

He visibly softened. "Mark-"

"He's gone," Mark choked out. He looked up, his eyes dark with pain. He was staring at Blackwell, who was starting to come to.

He stood up. " _ You killed him _ ," he said again, his voice no longer shaking. Now it just sounded angry. "You're a  _ monster _ ."

He stepped closer to Blackwell, and Beck stepped in front of him. "Mark, you can't-" he started

and Mark pushed him out of the way, his hand sparking.

Beck held his arm, wincing in pain. Mark was staring down Blackwell with fire in his eyes. "They said I was a monster," he said, with a mirthless laugh. It was choked and weak. "But you- You're the fucking monster. You know what the AM did to monsters?"

A bolt of electricity shot out of his hand and stuck Blackwell's chest. The old man gasped in pain, doubling over.

"Oh, they did a lot worse than this." He zapped him again, looking unfazed at the scream that followed. "And I never killed anyone."

"Mark, stop!" Caleb yelled from the other side of the room, his voice desperate. He was breathing hard, Blackwell's pain and panic and Mark's anger crushing him.

Mark didn't even turn his head. "I wasn't a  _ murderer _ ." Blackwell took a shuddering breath as he was hit again, unable to even form a scream. He looked up at Mark, eyes begging for mercy he didn't deserve.

Images of Oliver's body- of his unmoving chest, his too-pale skin, his eyes that would terrifyingly never open again- flashed in Mark's mind, and the static in his ears got louder, and he pushed his rage out through his hands.

Blackwell's scream was cut off abruptly, and he dropped, completely still.

His eyes were still open.

Mark dropped his hands, and let out a single sob, staring at the fallen body in front of him.

He stumbled back, and Beck caught him by the shoulder. "You should have stopped," he said quietly.

Mark shoved him off. He turned to look at the group of kids, who all looked scared, just like he felt. "Ben-" His voice was hoarse still, shaking terribly. "Ben, you can- you can- your energy thing, can- if I can get an electric current, you..." He trailed off, vision blurring again.

"There's no ability that can bring back the dead," Beck said, and his voice was gentler now.

"There  _ has _ to- to be a way, he can't-" His voice skidded, and he swallowed another sob. "He can't leave me."

It came out small.

Beck told Sadie to go call someone, and she nodded and left the basement. "Mark, there are too many atypicals in here. You're hurting Caleb. You need to go outside."

Mark could tell he was holding something in, he could  _ feel _ it. He was surprised he could feel anything.

"We have to- I can't- I can't leave without him-"

"Mark." Caleb's voice was faint. It wavered. He held himself steady between Adam and Ben, clutching their arms. "Mark,  _ please _ ." He gasped out the word, tears in his eyes.

Mark met his eyes, and shattered. He fell, letting out heavy sobs that racked his body and made it hurt to breathe.

He couldn't feel his hands. And as the world slipped into darkness around him, he couldn't feel anything else, either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter! next one will be longer.

Mark woke up in a bed. A comfortable bed, too, and he'd even been given blankets.

He sat up, looking around the room. He didn't recognize it- A small room in an apartment, maybe, from the window and the decor.

And then it all hit him.

All at once, sending a painful rush through his head. His chest ached, tight and heaving as he started to panic. His fingers were still numb, energy buzzing in his hands.

He remembered seeing Oliver, and Blackwell's face looking at him as he died, hearing Caleb's panicked yelling. Feeling Blackwell die.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

The door opened. Beck was frowning when he looked at him. "You're awake," he said, sounding relieved.

"I..." He swallowed thickly. "I didn't- Fuck, I... Is Caleb okay?"

"He's fine. Are you okay?" Beck's eyebrows knitted together. He looked upset still, but worried.

Mark was about to lie, but knew he couldn't. He shook his head, just barely, afraid that if he tried to speak again he would just break down.

Beck nodded. "Come on, you need breakfast."

He didn't think he needed breakfast. He wasn't hungry. He didn't think he could eat, anyway, even if he was. "I'm fine," he managed, voice trembling.

"Mark." Beck walked over, setting a hand on his arm. He hesitated. "No one- No one blames you. For what happened."

The walls felt like they were closing in around him. His ears rang. "It hurts to move," he whispered.

Beck helped him up, moving his arm around him to keep him standing. They walked out of the living room, and Mark saw they were in Caitlin and Adam's apartment.

Frankie, Ben, and Caitlin were sitting on the couch. Ben had attached themself to Frankie, holding onto his arm. But Frankie was the one that looked like he needed comfort, nervously fidgeting with his hands as he talked to Caitlin.

Beck cleared his throat. "Are there any waffles left?" he asked, letting go of Mark.

"I'll go get them," Caitlin said, getting up. She went into the kitchen, and Mark sat down in an armchair.

Both of the students left in the room were looking at him. Ben looked scared still, curled against their friend's side. "We're all glad you're okay," Frankie said.

_I'm not_ , Mark almost said. He just nodded slightly. "Where's Caleb?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

"In Boston," Beck answered, leaning against the arm of the couch and looking at Mark with a solemn expression. "He hasn't recovered from last night and we thought it would be best that you two aren't in the same place for the time being."

Oh. Mark nodded again. He needed to go. Back home, or wherever, away from here. He needed his sister.

He didn't stay around to wait for the waffles. He got up, ignoring Beck's protesting, and ran out of the apartment.

The early November air was cool and windy, pushing against him as he ran, and as he got in his car.

He didn't start it right away. He sat in the front seat, with his hands gripping the wheel.

His whole body felt numb. There was still static in his ears, and he felt like electricity was still coursing through him.

He sat back against the seat, closing his eyes. He finally let himself cry, breaking down in tears.

The static in his ears morphed into screams. He tried to push it out, clamping his hands over his ears. The screams only got louder.

"Stop, please," he said weakly, talking to his own head. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying to no one that maybe, _maybe_ this would all be over when he opened them.

It wasn't.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, and froze when he felt a spark. His hand buzzed with static that wasn't there. He stared at it, and his other hand.

His hands didn't feel like they belonged to him anymore. They didn't feel _real_ , anymore.

His phone started ringing, and he felt his heart start to pound. He swallowed and picked it up, his hand still shaking. It was Joan.

He slid his thumb over the screen to answer it, setting it to speaker before he dropped his phone. "Joanie?"

He hated how weak he sounded.

"Mark, oh my god. Adam told me what happened- Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I- I'm about to drive back to Boston." He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

Joan was quiet for a minute. "Mark, I... I'm sorry."

"I don't want to talk about it." He managed to still his hands enough to start the car, pulling onto the road.

"Mark-"

" _Please_ , Joanie." It was desperate. "Please, I just- I can't..." His voice cracked. "I'll see you at home..."

He hung up.

He didn't want to face his sister, if he was honest with himself. He needed her, but he didn't know what he would do when he saw her.

Would she still be okay with his ability? Would she still be okay with _him?_

His eyes stung. There was a terrible, aching feeling in his chest. His parents were right.

He was a freak. Normal people couldn't do that, _normal people_ didn't shoot lightning out of their hands and kill other people.

Normal people lived normal lives and didn't have to see...

He shook his head, pulling his car onto the road. 


End file.
